Mark Akenside

“ To rescue and to heal? O let thy soul
Remember, what the will of heav'n ordains
Is ever good for all; and if for all,550
Then good for thee. Nor only by the warmth
And soothing sunshine of delightful things,
Do minds grow up and flourish. Oft misled
By that bland light, the young unpractis'd views
Of reason wander thro' a fatal road,555
Far from their native aim: as if to ly
Inglorious in the fragrant shade, and wait
The soft access of ever-circling joys,
Were all the end of being. ”

“ Paint all the noblest Trophies of your Guilt,⁠65
The Oaths you perjur'd and the Blood you spilt;
Yet must you one untempted Vileness own,
One dreadful Palm reserv'd for him alone;
With studied Arts his Country's Praise to spurn,
To beg the Infamy he did not earn,⁠70
To challenge Hate when Honour was his Due,
And plead his Crimes where all his Virtue knew.
Do Robes of State the guarded Heart inclose
From each fair Feeling human Nature knows? ”

“ We may class, too, with them, Addison's essays on the "Pleasures of Imagination" in The Spectator, which, although in prose, glow throughout with the mildest and truest spirit of poetry; and if inferior to Akenside in richness and swelling pomp of words, and in dashing rhetorical force, far excel him in clearness, in chastened beauty, and in those inimitable touches and unconscious felicities of thought and expression which drop down, like ripe apples falling suddenly across your path from a laden bough, and which could only have proceeded from Addison's exquisite genius. ”

“ WHen shall the laurel and the vocal string
Resume their honours? When shall we behold
The tuneful tongue, the Promothéan hand
Aspire to ancient praise Alas! how faint,
How slow the dawn of beauty and of truth5
Breaks the reluctant shades of Gothic night
Which yet involve the nations! Long they groan'd
Beneath the furies of rapacious force;
Oft as the gloomy north, with iron-swarms
Tempestuous pouring from her frozen caves,10
Blasted th' Italian shore, and swept the works
Of liberty and wisdom down the gulph
Of all-devouring night. ”

“ And wakes to sprighther thoughts the painful poet's blood.
⁠With looks so frosty, and with steps so tame,
⁠Ye careful nymphs, ye household things, adieu;
⁠Not once ye taught me love's or friendship's flame,
⁠And where is he that ever taught it you?
⁠And ye, the sloe-ey'd fathers of the land,
⁠With whom dominion lurks from hand to hand,
⁠Unown'd, undignify'd by public choice,
⁠I go where freedom in the streets is known,
⁠And tells a monarch on his throne,
⁠Tells him he reigns, he lives but by her voice. ”

“ How easy to make any subject or any person ridiculous! To hold that ridicule is paramount to the discovery or attestation of truth, is to exalt the ape-element in man above the human and the angelic principles, which also belong to his nature, and to enthrone a Voltaire over a Newton or a Milton. Those who laugh proverbially do not always win, nor do they always deserve to win. Do we think less of "Paradise Lost," and Shakspeare, because Cobbett has derided both, or of the Old and New Testaments, because Paine has subjected parts of them to his clumsy satire? ”

“ In beauty's rosy smile. It now remains,
Thro' various being's fair-proportion'd scale
To trace the rising lustre of her charms,
From their first twilight, shining forth at length⁠445
To full meridian splendour. Of degree
The least and lowliest, in th' effusive warmth
Of colours mingling with a random blaze,
Doth beauty dwell. Then higher in the line
And variation of determin'd shape,⁠450
Where truth's eternal measures mark the bound
Of circle, cube, or sphere. ”

“ To her of old by Jove was giv'n
To judge the various deeds of earth and heav'n;
'Twas thine by gentle arts to win us to her sway.
Oft as from stricter hours resign'd
I quit the maze where science toils,
Do thou refresh my yielding mind
With all thy gay, delusive spoils.
But, O indulgent, come not nigh
The busy steps, the jealous eye
Of gainful care and wealthy age,
Whose barren souls thy joys disdain,
And hold as foes to reason's reign
Whome'er thy lovely haunts ingage. ”

“ Of honourable fame, of truth divine
Or moral, and of minds to virtue won
By the sweet magic of harmonious verse;
The themes which now expect us. For thus far
On general habits, and on arts which grow
Spontaneous in the minds of all mankind, 60
Hath dwelt our argument; and how, self-taught,
Though seldom conscious of their own employ,
In Nature's or in Fortune's changeful scene
Men learn to judge of Beauty, and acquire
Those forms set up, as idols in the soul
For love and zealous praise. ”

“ Thro' secret paths erewhile untrod by man,⁠50
The fair poetic region, to detect
Untasted springs, to drink inspiring draughts;
And shade my temples with unfading flow'rs
Cull'd from the laureate vale's profound recess,
Where never poet gain'd a wreath before.⁠55
From heav'n my strains begin; from heaven descends
The flame of genius to the human breast,
And love and beauty, and poetic joy
And inspiration. ”

“ I see ye are not; every bosom glows
With native greatness, and in all its state
The British spirit rises: glorious change!
Fame, virtue, freedom, welcome! Oh, forgive
The Muse, that, ardent in her sacred cause,
Your glory question'd; she beholds with joy,
She owns, she triumphs in her wish'd mistake.
See! from her sea-beat throne in awful march 160
Britannia towers: upon her laurel crest
The plumes majestic nod; behold, she heaves
Her guardian shield, and terrible in arms
For battle shakes her adamantine spear:
Loud at her foot the British lion roars,
Frighting the nations ”

“ Now arms and radiant trophies, now the rods
Of empire with the curule throne, or now
The domes of contemplation and the Muse.
Led by that hope sublime, whose cloudless eye
Through the fair toils and ornaments of earth 490
Discerns the nobler life reserved for heaven,
Favour'd alike they worship round the shrine
Where Truth conspicuous with her sister-twins,
The undivided partners of her sway,
With Good and Beauty reigns. Oh! let not us
By Pleasure's lying blandishments detain'd,
Or crouching to the frowns of bigot rage,
Oh! let not us one moment pause to join
That chosen band. ”

“ And yon deep death-bell's groaning sound 10
Renew my mind's oppressive gloom,
Till starting Horror shakes the room.
Is there in nature no kind power
To soothe affliction's lonely hour?
To blunt the edge of dire disease,
And teach these wintry shades to please?
Come, Cheerfulness, triumphant fair,
Shine through the hovering cloud of care:
O sweet of language, mild of mien,
O Virtue's friend and Pleasure's queen, 20
Assuage the flames that burn my breast,
Compose my jarring thoughts to rest;
And while thy gracious gifts I feel,
My song shall all thy praise reveal. ”

“ Where Fancy cheats the intellectual eye,
With glaring colours and distorted lines. 30
Is there a man, who, at the sound of death,
Sees ghastly shapes of terror conjured up,
And black before him; nought but death-bed groans
And fearful prayers, and plunging from the brink
Of light and being, down the gloomy air,
An unknown depth? Alas! in such a mind,
If no bright forms of excellence attend
The image of his country; nor the pomp
Of sacred senates, nor the guardian voice
Of Justice on her throne, nor aught that wakes 40
The conscious bosom with a patriot's flame ”

“ Of colour, and the vital change of growth,
Life's holy flame with piercing sense is given,
While active motion speaks the temper'd soul:
So moves the bird of Juno: so the steed
With rival swiftness beats the dusty plain,
And faithful dogs with eager airs of joy
Salute their fellows. What sublimer pomp
Adorns the seat where Virtue dwells on earth,
And Truth's eternal day-light shines around,
What palm belongs to man's imperial front, 550
And woman powerful with becoming smiles,
Chief of terrestrial natures, need we now
Strive to inculcate? ”

“ With which the Muse of Solon in sweet strains
Adorn'd this theme profound, and render'd all
Its darkness, all its terrors, bright as noon,
Or gentle as the golden star of eve. 30
Who knows not Solon,—last, and wisest far,
Of those whom Greece, triumphant in the height
Of glory, styled her fathers,—him whose voice
Through Athens hush'd the storm of civil wrath;
Taught envious Want and cruel Wealth to join
In friendship; and, with sweet compulsion, tamed
Minerva's eager people to his laws,
Which their own goddess in his breast inspired? ”

“ That through the pageants of a patriot's name,
They pierced the foulness of thy secret aim; 40
Or deem'd thy arm exalted but to throw
The public thunder on a private foe.
But I, whose soul consented to thy cause,
Who felt thy genius stamp its own applause,
Who saw the spirits of each glorious age
Move in thy bosom, and direct thy rage;
I scorn'd the ungenerous gloss of slavish minds,
The owl-eyed race, whom Virtue's lustre blinds.
Spite of the learned in the ways of vice,
And all who prove that each man has his price, 50
I still believed thy end was just and free ”

“ Of Nature fair Imagination culls
To charm the enliven'd soul! What though not all
Of mortal offspring can attain the heights
Of envied life; though only few possess
Patrician treasures or imperial state;
Yet Nature's care, to all her children just,
With richer treasures and an ampler state,
Endows at large whatever happy man 580
Will deign to use them. His the city's pomp,
The rural honours his. Whate'er adorns
The princely dome, the column, and the arch,
The breathing marbles and the sculptured gold,
Beyond the proud possessor's narrow claim,
His tuneful breast enjoys. ”

“ Indeed, we do not understand why any decent calling should be inimical to the existence—however it may be to the adequate development—of genius. That is a spark of supernal inspiration, lighting where it pleases, often conforming, and always striving to conform, circumstances to itself, and sometimes even strengthened and purified by the contradictions it meets in life. Nay, genius has sprung up in stranger quarters than in butcher's shops or tailor's attics—it has lived and nourished in the dens of robbers, and in the gross and fetid atmosphere of taverns. ”

“ Whate'er the waters, or the liquid air, 300
To manifest unblemish'd Beauty's praise,
And o'er the breasts of mortals to extend
Her gracious empire. Wilt thou to the isles
Atlantic, to the rich Hesperian clime,
Fly in the train of Autumn, and look on,
And learn from him; while, as he roves around,
Where'er his fingers touch the fruitful grove,
The branches bloom with gold; where'er his foot
Imprints the soil, the ripening clusters swell,
Turning aside their foliage, and come forth 310
In purple lights, till every hillock glows
As with the blushes of an evening sky? ”

“ Are social arms held out to your free hands:
Too arduous is the lore: too irksome were the pain.
12 Meantime by Pleasure's lying tales allured,
From the bright sun and living breeze ye stray;
And deep in London's gloomy haunts immured,
Brood o'er your fortune's, freedom's, health's decay.
O blind of choice and to yourselves untrue!
The young grove shoots, their bloom the fields renew,
The mansion asks its lord, the swains their friend;
While he doth riot's orgies haply share,
Or tempt the gamester's dark, destroying snare,
Or at some courtly shrine with slavish incense bend. ”

“ Its melancholy gloom! how doubly fair,
When first with fresh-born vigour he inhales
The balmy breeze, and feels the blessed sun
Warm at his bosom, from the springs of life
Chasing oppressive damps and languid pain!
Or shall I mention, where celestial Truth
Her awful light discloses, to bestow
A more majestic pomp on Beauty's frame?
For man loves knowledge, and the beams of Truth 100
More welcome touch his understanding's eye,
Than all the blandishments of sound his ear,
Than all of taste his tongue. ”

“ The trembling lyre, and with the warrior's trump
She means to thunder in each British ear;
And if one spark of honour or of fame,
Disdain of insult, dread of infamy,
One thought of public virtue yet survive, 10
She means to wake it, rouse the generous flame,
With patriot zeal inspirit every breast,
And fire each British heart with British wrongs.
Alas, the vain attempt! what influence now
Can the Muse boast! or what attention now
Is paid to fame or virtue? ”

“ Whence also but from Truth, the light of minds, 150
Is human fortune gladden'd with the rays
Of Virtue? with the moral colours thrown
On every walk of this our social scene,
Adorning for the eye of gods and men
The passions, actions, habitudes of life,
And rendering earth like heaven, a sacred place
Where Love and Praise may take delight to dwell?
Let none with heedless tongue from Truth disjoin
The reign of Virtue. ”